


Drowning Souls

by fancymuffins_and_wannabecakes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Lyanna stark is the knight of the laughing tree, Major character death - Freeform, Rhaegar does care about Elia after all, Rhaegar genuinly love Lyanna, Rhaegar is intense, but you all saw it coming, drapples, rhaegar is not a fanatic, rhaegar loves his kids, short lil' chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:50:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancymuffins_and_wannabecakes/pseuds/fancymuffins_and_wannabecakes
Summary: Prophecies have little care for the lives and feelings of the living. It cares only to see itself fulfilled.





	1. The Prince and The Knight

The chase had come to an end by a meadow. Hidden away by trees as tall as Maegor's Keep, it seemed almost as if time itself couldn't find it. She had looked at him with an almost playful smile on her lips.  _I haven't seen the knight, Your Grace._ Had he been any other man he might have believed her. He might not have noticed the silent defiance in her eyes. He insisted, she tell him where the mystery knight had gone.  _I haven't seen the knight, Your Grace._ The realization hit him like a lance against armour. Her smile had widened, not much but it had grown. The northern lady before him hadn't lied about not seeing the mystery knight. 

_She was the mystery knight._

While preoccupied by his own mind, overflowing with astonishment, the knight of the laughing tree had slipped away, and left in her wake a man drowning. 


	2. Like a Moth to a Flame

He had been drawn to her like a moth to a flame. The moment the crown of blue winter roses had been placed in his hands, she had been all he could see. With his heart pounding in his ears, he rode to to her. Her playful smile was gone. In fact no one was smiling. With just one action everyone surrounding them had turned into expressionless statues of stone, but when Rhaegar smiled at her, something appeared in her eyes. 

A sliver of tenderness? A figment of his imagination no doubt. 

Hours, day, weeks, even months later his wife, his friends and his own mother would make sure to remind him he had made a mistake, when he crowned Lyanna Stark the queen of love and beauty. But despite the constant reminders of his crime, a bright flame still drew him to her. 


	3. Apologies and Forgotten Prophecies

His first letter had been an apology. An apology for inciting the anger of her eldest brother, Brandon. An apology for embarrassing her in front of the realm's nobility. Her reply had been as surprising as her capabilities with a lance. Lyanna had boldly declared that it had been none of her brother's  (or the realm's  for that matter) business.  Rhaegar knew, their correspondents should have ended with that second letter. Instead it grew, much like a winter rose, from a seed into a living organism capable of surviving the hardest of winters. Days spent reading and deciphering prophecies, were substituted for nights writing letters of love and admiration. Soon all thoughts of princes that were promised vanished from Rhaegar's mind. For a time.

Holding his newborn son in his arms, a voice whispered  _The dragon must have three heads._ Looking to bloodied linens and Elia, half-dead in her bed, Rhaegar forced himself to silence the voice. He may not have loved her, as a husband ought to, but by the seven she was still the mother of his children. Rhaegar refused to be the death of Elia Martell.

Prophecies be damned.


	4. Broken Vows

The decision hadn’t been a difficult one, though that isn’t to say it had been an easy one. They had shared a life together, in a manner of speaking. Rhaegar wasn’t proud to admit it, but leaving Elia had been the easy part. The part that wouldn’t leave too hard a strain on his heart. The difficult part had been his children. His ferocious Rhaenys and sweet Aegon. Rhaegar wasn’t deluded enough to believe he was doing them any favours by having his marriage annulled. Rhaenys and Aegon would become reduced to bastards. A fact Rhaegar had every intention to rectify the moment he would become king. Rhaegar was aware, he wouldn’t be remembered as the hero, but he loved his children more than life itself, and not even his own selfishness would allow him to leave them behind. 

He was no longer weighed down by worries of three headed dragons. Lyanna seemed to have that effect on him.  _She is mine and I am hers_ and unlike the first time, Rhaegar now meant each word with every fiber of his being, and as his forehead settled against hers, a strange peace took root in his soul. So foreign yet oh so welcome. Lyanna smiled up at him, her eyes filled with love and a promise of happy tomorrows. Rhaegar felt in his heart, this is was right. This was meant to be. 

No one would be able to understand his actions, but they would try. High and low alike would seek to understand, why the dragon had turned away from the sun in favour of the wolf. They would only end up empty handed and disappointed. 

But when had dragons ever made sense to lower beasts. 


	5. Drowned Souls

_It was her soul I loved_

**\- Prince Andrei Bolkonsky, War and Peace**

 

It had been her soul. Her soul and her impossible stubbornness, that had first drawn him to her. Despite all of the hurt and anguish they had caused, he would never regret her. He could never regret her. Lyanna was a part of him, as he was of her. He hadn’t wanted to leave her. He had wanted to stay and just hold her in his arms, till the world crumbled around them. To witness the birth of their child, just like he had with Rhaenys and Aegon. The vision of her remained in his mind. Her tearstained kiss tearing his heart from his chest. Too late he realized he was drowning, but something told Rhaegar, he had begun drowning the moment Lyanna had left him standing alone in the meadow near Harrenhal. He hadn’t cared. He had welcomed it with open arms. 

As his lungs filled with blood and dirty river water, all sound left Rhaegar’s ears, all sight left his eyes and all feeling left his body. Caught in a blizzard, dragons flying high above him, the song of swords reaching his ears, the dying scream of some ungodly creature chilling him to the bone. Breathing his last breath a voice whispered _The dragon has three heads._

__In death Rhaegar cursed himself for turning his children into the pawns of a prophecy.

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fanfic!
> 
> Massive thank you's to Emma, for taking the time to discuss everything Game of Thrones related with me, and for keeping my inspiration rolling. You rock, You sexy Beast!


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